Gwen looked at her. “If I sent a mental message to someone,” she said, “could someone else intercept it?”
“Only if your mind leaked,” Irene said. “We’ll cover that in a later session. Now…give Master Thomas a call. He’s been waiting to hear from you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Impressive, isn’t she?”
“That she is,” Jack agreed, gravely. The airfield boy was keen, determined to impress his charges with the sheer majesty of the Britannia Clipper. Jack remembered being just as fascinated when the first airships had been launched into the air, great ugly bags of hydrogen gas that promised a global revolution. “I have never seen a more exciting airship.”
Despite himself, he was impressed. Two hundred and fifty yards long, the airship was a giant among a flock of minnows. She’d been built to make the long journey over France, across the Mediterranean, through Egypt and finally to India, a record-breaking journey that linked the different sections of the British Empire together into a seamless whole. A second airship of her class was reputed to be intended to go from London to New York, but so far she hadn’t entered service. The passengers tended to balk at the idea of spending so long above the ocean.
She was a massive cigar, painted with the colours of the British Empire and a hugely idealised set of images of its subjects. George, the King-Emperor, was followed by a Red Indian, a Sikh and a yellow-skinned Chinaman, all looking up worshipfully towards the British lion. Jack happened to know that all three of the followers had not only been beaten, but crushed by British military force. Given time, China would no doubt follow India into the British Empire. The airship wasn’t just a flying monument to British aeronautical engineering, but a triumphant acclamation of the deeds that had built the empire. It was nothing more than a distraction, Jack suspected, to keep the poor from realising that the British Empire served no one, but its aristocratic masters.
He smiled as the long line of passengers slowly advanced into the airship. The tickets were enormously expensive even for the aristocracy and the Britannia Clipper was always undersubscribed. It had been easy to purchase ten seats on the airship, even without papers that proclaimed Jack and his men to be aristocrats. Besides, successful businessmen could hope to be ennobled and conscripted into the ruling class. The airship staff wouldn’t show them any disrespect, at least not in public. A businessman would have the money and the contacts to make their lives very unpleasant.
Darkness fell over him as he walked into the airship’s massive shadow and up the steps into the gondola. The sound of its engines warming up slowly made him smile, even as he glanced up at the mighty blades thrashing through the air. The Britannia Clipper was supposed to be able to make the trip from London to Cairo without refuelling, although the flight plan stated that there would be a brief delay in France to allow the richer customers a chance to visit Paris. Jack and his men were the only ones who knew that the Britannia Clipper would never leave England. In the end, as they filed on board the airship, Jack was almost disappointed by how easy it had been to get into the ship. No one had even insisted on checking their papers.
Inside, the entire aircraft was luxurious. Wood panelling covered the bulkheads, while comfortable seats were strategically positioned next to portholes. The richer passengers could, for a small gratuity, even walk out onto the balcony and feel the wind blowing against their faces. Jack had a feeling that any aristocrat who couldn’t use magic to save himself would probably refrain from going outside. The wind might blow them off the airship and down towards the ground far below.
The cabin crew bustled from seat to seat, offering drinks to the passengers and answering their questions. One middle-aged woman was almost a nervous wreck, to the disgust of the woman next to her and her two small boys. The grandma finally snapped at her daughter to shut up and keep her brats under control. Jack smiled to himself as he buckled himself in, even though there was supposed to be no need to do so on an airship. Safety came first, or so the pamphlets advertising the flights claimed, even though they were disingenuous. A single spark in the wrong place and the hydrogen would go up like a bomb. No one would escape an explosion in mid-air.
A dull thrumming ran through the airship as it slowly started to rise into the sky. Jack allowed himself a tight smile as he beckoned to one of the hostesses, a young woman wearing a skirt that would have outraged the Church if she’d worn it in London. Londoners could be surprisingly puritanical at times, but as always laws that applied to the poor didn’t apply to the rich. Besides, the airship was well away from London’s streets. It was almost a different world.
“I’d like to see a list of passengers,” he said, allowing Charm to slip into his voice. The hostess nodded in agreement. Airships had often served as quiet meeting places for people who would never have been seen together on the surface. She slipped away and returned two minutes later with a long list of names. Jack’s smile deepened as he scanned the list. There were over thirty rich and powerful citizens on the ship, each one a hostage to his plan. No one would take risks with so many important lives at stake.
He nodded to his men and stood up, making the walk towards the bridge. A cabin boy stood there on guard, but Jack gave him a silver crown and he stood aside, convinced that Jack and his party were merely men who wanted to watch as the airship rose over London. The hatch opened, revealing a complex system of controls linked to the steam engines that powered the fans driving the airship through the air. He’d once read a paper talking about the possibilities of heavier-than-air flight, but that would be some years in the future. Airships were here and now.
The airship’s captain looked up in surprise. He was older than Jack had expected, wearing a uniform grand enough to satisfy an Admiral. Jack had expected as much. Passenger liners at sea always ensured that their men had fancy uniforms – even the engineering crew who normally remained below decks – and the airship lines had copied their fashion. It was just another way to convey the feeling that one was travelling on a luxury flight. One day, Jack promised himself, the entire population would be able to afford airship flights.
“Gentlemen,” the Captain said. “I’m afraid that we have to ask you to leave...”
Jack chuckled and produced his pistol from his belt. The Captain’s eyes went very wide. No one had ever dared to hijack an airship before, even though they often carried very rich passengers. Airships were simply too difficult to rob while they were in the air, leaving the criminals nowhere to run. It wasn’t enough to deter a magician who could effectively fly, but Jack wanted to keep his magic to himself as long as possible. It would serve as an ace in the hole.
“Good morning, Captain,” he said. Below them, London was illuminated by the rising sun. They were high enough to see no traces of the squalor that most citizens were forced to endure. It almost seemed a magical city from above. “I’m afraid that we’re taking you and your airship hostage. If you cooperate, none of you will be harmed.”
The Captain scowled at him, angrily. “You won’t get away with this, you scoundrel,” he growled. Jack was almost impressed by his pluck. The anarchists – he wouldn’t take them for anything else – would probably want a victim to show that they were serious. “You’ll be caught and damn well hung.”
“Perhaps,” Jack agreed. He looked up at the three officers manning the controls. “I want you to cooperate with us. If you do as you’re told, you will be released unharmed.”
He laced Charm into his voice, enough to keep them biddable. Charm wasn’t entirely reliable in such circumstances, but it would have to suffice. Besides, they had to know that Jack couldn’t escape. There was literally nowhere to go, as long as one was bound by conventional thinking. Jack smiled as the Captain and two of his officers were tied up and positioned against one of the bulkheads, out of the way. The third officer, the steering master, had to be kept in position. Jack had no idea how to fly an airship and he didn’t have time to learn.
“Take us over London,” he or
dered. The orders would be reassuring to his captives, he knew. They weren’t scheduled for a flight to Cardiff or Southampton and the people on the ground would know that something was wrong. Wherever they flew, the Bow Street Runners would follow. And that would make them complacent. “Take us right up the Thames.”
He left two of his men guarding the bridge and walked through the airship. The passengers had only started to realise that something was wrong, far too late for any action that would allow them to retake the ship. Jack and the rest of his men herded them into lockable compartments – it was odd that the airship’s interior had almost been designed as a prison – and sealed them in. A pair of hostesses and several of the female passengers were having hysterics. Jack ignored them once they were all secured, ensuring that they wouldn’t be able to interfere. They’d be safe enough once the crisis was over. Only God – and whoever was in command at the Tower of London – would determine if they survived the day.
The airship creaked as it turned and headed up the Thames. Jack recalled reading that some airship flight paths were determined by rivers, rather than dry land. It made a certain kind of sense – a crashing airship would devastate the surrounding territory – but very few airships ever flew up the Thames. Jack smiled and forced his heart to slow down, breathing deeply until he was calm. It wouldn’t do to lose control too early, not when the plan had only just begun. Besides, win or lose, they were about to shock the hell out of the established order. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Norton met him near the great cargo hatches that were supposed to allow cargo to be disembarked from the airship. “I’ve gathered everything I can,” he said. Jack had given him very specific orders, orders that only Norton and Jack himself could follow. “It seems a shame to waste it.”
“We’d never be able to spend it all anyway,” Jack reminded him. The underground had occasionally hijacked trains, but the pickings had been slim and often lost to criminal organisations. “We need to keep the bastards guessing as soon as we reveal ourselves.”
He strode back through the airship, checked the locked doors out of habit, and then returned to the bridge. The Captain was still outraged, threatening the hijackers with everything from keelhauling to slow torture and death. Jack eventually silenced him by stuffing a filthy cloth into his mouth before turning to his men. The Tower of London was slowly coming into view in the distance. Below them, the shipping on the river was already picking up. There would be hundreds of ships on the river by the time they launched their attack.
“I want you to hover over the Tower,” he ordered. There was no time for risks, so he pushed as much Charm as he could into his voice. The pilot would eventually break free, but by then it would be a moot point anyway. “Take us low, so low that they cannot shoot at us without risking a crash.”
He closed his eyes and expanded his mind. Below him, the garrison would be reacting slowly to the airship’s presence, assuming that they realised that something was badly wrong. He had to assume the worst, but the garrison wouldn’t be able to simply open fire on the ship. Quite apart from the danger of the airship crashing on top of their position, they would be sentencing a number of very rich, powerful and well-connected individuals to death. Any of the garrison who survived the crash would find themselves being called to account by relatives of the victims.
The combat magicians would pose another problem, he reminded himself. There was so much magic infused into the Tower of London that he literally couldn’t send his astral presence through its walls. The magicians would include Movers who would be able to fly up to the airship and board it, or Blazers who might try to bring it down. And if they worked out what was going on, they might even be able to kill the prisoners before Jack and his team could rescue them. He was counting on them being too surprised to react effectively. Now, with the airship slowly lowering itself onto the Tower of London, he felt almost nervous. He’d been in worse situations, he told himself, but it didn’t work. No one had ever tried using an airship to mount an aerial assault in the past, even when they’d first been invented. And no one had used one of the flying craft to bombard a garrison from well out of reach of the defenders’ weapons.
“Keep us here,” he ordered, and headed back to the cargo bays. Norton had already opened them, revealing the Tower of London below the airship. The pilot had been reluctant to go lower, pointing out that they might come down on top of the tower and die in the explosion. “Norton, are you ready?”
“Yes,” Norton said. He nodded to the first batch of items. “They’re ready for you.”
Jack grinned. Norton was an Infuser, an Infuser who had developed tastes that only the underworld could supply. He’d paid for his habit by creating magical artefacts for a series of crime lords, until Jack had finally recruited him into the underground. His drug habit was expensive and Jack had offered a massive payment for the raid on the Tower of London, but the Infuser looked nervous. The whole enterprise was insanely risky and capture would mean certain death.
“Good,” he said. Magic rose to his fingertips as he contemplated the small pile of items, each one glowing with magical power. “Let’s go.”
He picked up the first item with his magic and hurled it down towards the barracks below. Soldiers and combat magicians were scurrying around like ants, staring up at the immense airship. They had no time to run as the first item hit the ground and exploded. There was no particular skill in creating magical grenades, after all; Jack could have done it for himself if he’d had the time. The Royal Airship Corps had devised plans to drop bombs on enemy targets from the sky. Jack had taken their concept and improved upon it. Bomb after bomb struck the ground and exploded, scattering the defences. The handful of soldiers positioned on the roof of Traitor’s Tower – as it had been renamed after the years of unrest – were unable to even shoot back. Jack chuckled as they scattered, even reaching out with his magic to pick a couple up and throw them into the open air. The guards would be running around like headless chickens, while he and his men got on with the next part of the plan.
“Keep shooting at any combat magicians who show their face,” Jack ordered. The commanders of the soldiers below had either scattered or been killed in the bombardment. Some of them – the smart ones – would be trying to remove their uniforms. They might have looked splendid on parade, but they were nothing more than targeting marks for the enemy in combat. “Don’t let them recover while we’re up here.”
He picked up another grenade and hurled it down towards the ground. It exploded with a deafening sound, scattering chunks of stone everywhere. Jack laughed at the chaos and nodded to Leo, passing command of the airship detachment to him. His second would keep up the pressure, while Jack himself moved on with stage three of the plan. Gathering his magic around him, he leapt into the air and flew down towards the roof of Traitor’s Tower. Someone on the ground was watching him – a combat magician attempted to disrupt his magic and send him hurtling to the ground – but it was far too late to kill him. Besides, they had to keep their heads down to avoid Jack’s snipers. They wouldn’t dare show themselves, even though a Mover could shield himself against bullets. Jack suspected that they would hold back and wait for Master Thomas. Or Gwen, he reminded himself. He still had no idea which way Master Thomas’s apprentice would jump, when the crunch finally came.
A shot snapped out behind him, almost taking his head off. Jack spun around, magic shimmering into existence around him, to see a guard holding a pistol. Magic flared from Jack’s hands and picked the guard up, tossing him over the edge and down towards the ground, far below. There was no one else on the roof, apart from Jack himself. A handful of dead bodies were testament to the sheer surprise and power of the assault. No one had expected an assault from the skies.
Grinning, Jack walked over to the door and pressed his hands against it. It was locked, and infused with enough magic to make unlocking it difficult. Jack nodded in appreciation of the skill of the unknown Infuser, before Changing th
e structure of the lock. It crumbled to dust and Jack kicked the door open, staring down into the Tower of London. An explosion shook the building as Jack walked through the door and down into the Tower. A pair of guards tried to stop him, only to be blasted down with tiny bursts of magic. Neither of them posed a real threat to a magician.
The suborned Warder had kindly provided a map of where the prisoners were being held. Jack took out the locks of their cells with bursts of magic and threw them open. Lucy stared up at him in disbelief. They had all been told that no one had ever escaped from the Tower of London. The authorities rested a great deal of faith in the impregnability of the Tower – and, under normal circumstances, their faith would be entirely justified. But they’d never prepared for a rogue Master.
“Come on,” he said, grinning. They were all staring at him, unable to believe their eyes. “It’s time to get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
How...?”
“I told you I was a genius,” Jack said, cheerfully. Lucy hugged him tightly and he was suddenly very aware of her breasts pushing against his chest. “And they never saw me coming.”
The entire building shook, again. He could hear men shouting below, working up the nerve to come running up the stairs and confront the rebels. It wouldn’t be long before someone in authority realised that the rebels could hardly bring the Tower down without killing themselves in the process. He let go of Lucy – reluctantly – and motioned for the others to come out of their cells. They didn’t look as if they’d been tortured, which argued that the authorities had never known who they’d held. If they’d known about Lucy’s talent, they would never have shut her up in the Tower of London. They would have taken her away to the farms.
“They’re coming up the stairs,” Owen reported. The burly Welshman had been one of Lucy’s hired toughs long before he’d joined the underground. “I think they’re only two floors below us.”
The Royal Sorceress Page 29